A Choice
by Reyelene
Summary: Father Richards visits Fidget in his cell at Pentonville ... and offers him a choice at a new life. What will his decision be? As told by Father Richards.


**In the short story Yearning, Deniece had visited Fidget in his cell and told him Father Richards would be at one of the chapel sermons. Shortly after giving a sermon, the mouse priest visits Fidget in his cell to make him an offer he can't refuse: a chance at reformation. Fidget belongs to Disney, all other characters belong to me.**

I always remembered the day I saw him at chapel service in Pentonville. I was reading a passage from Galatians, he winced and turned his head away. Mice of my profession would've called it a creature possessed by the Devil himself, but I knew better. I have been a mouse of the world for a very long time; becoming a priest was the last thing on my agenda. I've associated with Fidget's culture in the past. Bats were a rare species in London, but when found they were usually together as a clan. The bat family was usually a number of eight: two parents, two grandparents, an aunt and uncle, and children (sometimes more). Fish and meat were their daily indulgence, even insects. They were very poor and not well connected with the outside world. They had bigger than life personalities which inspired creativity beyond compare if one only dared to look with open eyes. However, their education was very limited because they only came out at night, thus this creativity was sorely overlooked. They were shunned by mousedom society because of their cultural practices. Most bats practiced a pagan spirituality, which meant they had a great respect for nature. They believed that nature was pure and that we (mice and bat alike) were all one with nature. Mice were practicing Christians, and one who knew and understood history knew that pagans and Christians were historical enemies. It was the same in the case of mice and bats, though bats had a natural need for being social and part of a community. Many times have I seen bats try their hardest to step beyond the boundaries of their realm to learn the ways of other cultures. This was often met with great intolerance, and bats were often misunderstood ... and misjudged. Many became so disillusioned to the point of madness. Some committed suicide, others sought to make a profit in crime (usually piracy). But this was only enough to paint half of picture of Fidget's past.

Fidget struggled with speaking, especially when put under pressure. Since bats thrived on being social, this put Fidget at quite a disadvantage. He lost his parents, killed by mice posing as servants of God. He lost his innocence when he avenged his parents' death, he lost his memory and sense of direction. During his employment with Captain Lillian Bates, he lost his right leg and his ability to fly (the very detail that marked a grown bat's identity). And he was betrayed by his latest employer, Professor Ratigan. This young man had lost so much, like Deniece. He knew loss too well that he was accustomed to it ... but even one who was used to loss could only tolerate so much pain. This was where I came in.

"I am here to see Fidget."

"You are mad, Father!" the warder cried. "That thing will rip your 'ead off before you can blink!"

"I doubt he would be successful even if he tried," I replied with the shake of my head.

Obviously, the warder was still convinced in his mind that I was a mad mouse. "I wouldn't advise it, Father."

"I will take my chances, sir," I insisted. "Let me see Fidget."

It didn't take long for the warder to realize that it was useless to talk me out of it. He sighed, opened the cell, and allowed me to spend time with Fidget alone.

The young bat lay on his hammock with both webbed hands crossed behind his head. He had been staring at the ceiling, which was all he could do while lying in cell. Only when I sat on a stool across from him did he turn his head to look at me.

"I can't believe you did dat."

"Did what?" I asked.

"Defended me at trial," Fidget replied. "Why did you do it?"

"I helped the same bat who got his peg-leg stuck within a flight of stairs, remember?"

To this reply, the bat lowered his ears in humiliation. "Yeah ... I remember ..." I could tell Fidget didn't completely trust me. If priests had killed his parents, how could he trust one that was helping him? He probably believed my defending him was all part of a master plan ... which in reality, it was. But it was not to do him any harm.

"You made quite an impression on Deniece," I continued. "Never have I seen her with that look in her eyes whenever she is with you."

Fidget turned his head away at the mention of her name. "Niecy ..."

I placed my hand on his shoulder. "I can see Deniece made an impression on you too."

"How is she?" Fidget asked. I assured the young bat that Deniece was doing well and inquired about his well-being, which was the truth. There wasn't a moment after her accident that Deniece would not talk about him. Just the other day, she gave me her teal-blue scarf to give to Fidget. I pulled it out of my pocket at placed it in his hands. A tiny smile flickered across his face. "I can't stop t'inkin about her ... All da little t'ings she does." He spoke as if only the prison walls could hear him. "I broke a wine glass, cut my hand. She ... touched my hand ... she was so gentle, I trembled. She made me tremble ..."

"And ...?" I urged.

He continued, but still spoke as if I were absent. "We went for walks ... and flyin'. My only foot was hurtin', she rubbed it. Dhen she sang to me. Her touch ... her voice. It scared me ... and I liked it. I didn't know what was happenin' to me, but I liked it ..."

I smiled at his response. "That is called love, Fidget."

Suddenly, Fidget broke out of his daydream. He gave me a serious look, as if he were onto my little game. "Alright, cut da nice guy act, priest! Why are you here?"

"To offer you a second chance," I told him.

His large ears perked up. "At what?"

"A new life."

"What!"

I expected Fidget to be surprised at my proposal. I haven't told him that I came upon Deniece's request. I was by her bed-side when Deniece was recovering from her misfortune with Ratigan's mice. Repeatedly she mentioned Fidget's name, crossed her wings in an ideal embrace as if he were right with her. She had lost many loved ones in her life. And she had grown so close to Fidget, enough to nearly get herself killed in search of him when after their argument. I wanted to spare her that pain. Fidget's life needed to be spared, for her sake.

"You're teasin' me, priest!" Fidget crossed his wings. "How is dat possible?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

Fidget had a confused expression on his face. "You have the desire, in here," I continued as I pointed at Fidget's heart. "That is the first step ... but it's not enough."

"What are you talkin' about!" Fidget replied with a puzzled look.

I decided to approach him from a different angle. "You said Ratigan threw you out. Can you tell me why?"

"I don't know ..." Fidget said with a frown. "I guess I failed him too many times ..."

"You've been with him for four years. Why would he decide to throw you out for 'failing too many times'?"

I noticed the young bat perspired, most likely from anxiety. "Because I did better dat time! I don't know!"

"But you do know," I persisted. "More than you realize."

"I don't, damn it!" Fidget clasped his head with both hands. "You're stressin' me out! It hurts!"

"You've been hurt, Fidget. And you're feeling that hurt now."

The young bat began to shiver from head to sole foot. I could tell that my questions were bothering him. "I hate bein' hurt! I hate bein' weak! I hate it!"

"You can't help that, Fidget. Pain is just part of life. You know this well because all your life, you've suffered from that pain."

Fidget cowered before my feet, as if he were at the mercy of an executioner. I believed that deep down, he knew that I wouldn't harm him. But years of suppression and scorn conditioned him to cowardice, no matter who stood before him. I knelt as his level and placed my hand on his shoulder. He managed to lift his head to look at my face. I motioned with my other hand for him to stand up; he obeyed. "I don't understand ... Why are you ... helpin' me? Priests I've met ... all wanted me dead. I don't even believe in God."

"He believes in you, my son," I spoke softly. "He loves all his children and mourns when his children suffer. That is why He wants you live."

"God's children?" Fidget chuckled in a sarcastic manner. He slid the back of his left arm across his eyes to wipe away tears he didn't want me to see (a common behavior of any man). "I t'ought I was a hee'don child. Every one else treated me like one."

I rested both my hands on his trembling shoulders. "I don't see a heathen child at all. What I see a troubled young man, with eyes and a heart of a child. He has so much to give, so much to share ... yet he is afraid to show it because he has been hurt." Fidget's body began to tremble less, a sign that he took my words to heart. Although he tried hard to fight it, a fresh set of tears flowed down his cheeks. "That's what I'm trying to tell you, Fidget. You can change, I know you want to. You have the desire, but change means pain, suffering, and a lot of hard work. Citizens of mousedom will have less than admirable opinions, because of your crimes toward society. They will not trust you; it is your responsibility to earn their trust."

"How could I do dat!" Fidget asked. "I don't even know where to start."

I pulled a book from my pocket. It was a diary, newly made with pages untouched. I informed Fidget that this diary would serve him as his mirror, once he began writing. Fidget was naturally stunned by this, reminding me that he barely knew how to read. But I was not so careless as to overlook that minor detail. When I told Fidget that I would offer him a chance at a new life, I meant in terms of education. I was a teacher once, of world history, literature, and geography. If Fidget was to start life anew in mousedom society, he would need proper education. Of course, Fidget did not act favorably to this and slapped his own forehead.

"Oh, great ... I have to do a lot of t'inkin'!"

"I told you there would be pain," I repeated. "But this kind of pain will be nothing compared to what you'll be facing. Because of your past crimes, citizens will still see you as a criminal. You won't be able to walk the streets without someone pointing a finger at your back. You might even run into old enemies who will try to win you back to the life of crime. This will not be an easy task, Fidget. You will have to be the one to decide which is most important in your life: a world with Deniece by your side or a world of nothingness."

Fidget heaved a sigh as he closed his eyes. "Niecy ..." he uttered in a soft, breathy voice. "Alright, priest. I'll do it."


End file.
